26 November 2014

Four Hundred and Fifteen

415


In vanity’s battles over time and space, there can be only winners and losers.

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The challenge with fate is not knowing what it is, and having to play it out one moment at a time.

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The trouble with facts is that everyone seems to be harbor to so many different ones.

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So immeasurably wealthy that you do not even have to count anymore.

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Creation is a roshambo – rock-paper-scissors – kind of thing.

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You are small, you are large, and everything between.

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What, in god’s name, is there to fight over, really?

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What need to call the inexplicable by any name?

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God and Satan are the bogeymen of imagination.

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Freedom is in the doubting of everything imagined.

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Born again and again with every breath for all eternity.

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In the beginning, in the middle, in the end, what matters, really?

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Always worth loosing the treasury purse strings to research the obvious.

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The only real choice in life is whether or not you are going to swim out into deep end.

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It takes a great deal of inattention not to have discerned the truth of it.